


Bastard In Love

by organgrinder



Series: Bad Guy // Heathers [2]
Category: Heathers (1988)
Genre: AU, Car Sex, F/M, Heathers 1988, Named after a Black Flag song, jdonica, kinda fluffy at certain points
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 19:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19116667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/organgrinder/pseuds/organgrinder
Summary: "She's not meant to be the villain of the story. She's not meant to be the murderous side kick. They’re weren't meant to be Bonnie and Clyde. But that’s exactly what they were. They’re a modern day Bonnie and Clyde, tearing their way through Sherwood, Ohio with a sick sense of infallibility. They were never, ever meant to be that."





	Bastard In Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [runlikethedevil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runlikethedevil/gifts).



> sorry this took so long! thank you to my good friend Vincent for helping me :) i wrote this really late so it might be off character a lil.
> 
> edit 3/31/20: i realized that i probably used some wrong car terms in here. i'm going to go through and fix this. my brain just happened to be mush when i wrote this.

The cigarette dangles loosely between his fingers, lit yet untouched as it waits for him to take a puff. Veronica’s been staring at it for minutes now, slowly watching as it burns itself down as he leans against the car, staring aimlessly off into a field.

Their car had broken down only hours after they left their hotel, rendering them useless as they sat on the side of the road. Veronica had nothing to do besides sink down in her seat and watch as J.D uselessly kicked at the car, muttering curses when it didn’t work.

“We’re screwed.” Veronica mumbles to nobody in particular. Neither of them have a way to contact anybody, and even if they did she doesn’t think it would go too well. They just blew up a school yesterday, and they’re the only survivors besides the kids that weren’t there. And seeing that Veronica and J.D had been marked as present, they didn’t exactly look too good.

“It probably just needs time to cool down.” J.D says dismissively from outside the car. The windows down and Veronica’s relatively close to it, but she’s still surprised. “We’ve been driving for a while.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Veronica mutters, even though she knows nothing about cars. She just knows she’s tired, hungry, and sore.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?” J.D snaps at her. Veronica flinches and slumps lower in her seat, trying to ignore the way that her head still throbs, even after being endlessly doped up on Advil. It’s a reminder that despite what happened last night, J.D was still psychotic, and not to be trusted in any way.

Veronica hears him sigh before dropping his cigarette and stomping on it, crushing it with his boot.

“Sorry.” He says, but it doesn’t seem sincere. It’s simply to get her attention again, which she only gives for a second with narrowed eyes before stubbornly staring off into the distance once again.

“I said I was sorry, Veronica.” He reiterates. His voice has gained an annoyed edge, and Veronica knows she’s treading on thin ice, but she refuses to give him what he wants.

There’s deafening silence before a sigh, followed by the scuffle of J.D’s shoes. She doesn’t look at him, even when he leans over through the window and offers a newly lit cigarette to her.

“Veronica.”

She refuses to look at him, even when he does that little scoff and head shake. She’s gone from the stage of shock, to denial and now to straight up oblivion. She’s pushed the fact that she aided in the death of thousands of students to the back of her head, spending her time staring out the window with vacant, glossy eyes until J.D decides to bother her again.

“Take the fucking cigarette, Veronica.”

Veronica’s eyes flicker towards him for only a second, and the memory of her burning herself comes to mind. She flexes her fingers as the burning sensation revisits her. It’s harsh, and in a way tragic, and she has the urge to smack it out of his hand. But she can’t, because it’ll fall on the car, and Veronica’s not really in the mood to burn to death.

It’s with a grudge, but she reaches out and grabs it anyway. J.D’s face remains stoic. She no longer sees the appeal to smoking and it’s rather disgusting when she brings it to her lips and takes a puff.

“You liked to smoke before.” J.D points out the obvious, and Veronica doesn’t hold herself back from glaring at him.

“I barely smoked around you.”

J.D rolls his eyes when she pulls it away and crinkles her nose.

“I don’t want it.”

“You don’t say.” He says sharply, and it causes Veronica to take in a deep breath before shifting and leaning her head against the window.

There’s the sound of him inhaling before she sees smoke from the corner of her eye, followed by a dejected sigh.

“Sorry.”

 _Sorry_. Just sorry. Not even _I’m sorry._ He couldn’t even make it seem sincere. Veronica scoffs under her breath and slumps lower in the chair.

“Well,” J.D scratches the back of his neck. “The car is broken…”

“You don’t say.”

Veronica can’t help the retort. J.D’s expression shifts immediately. He narrows his eyes, and she sees his hand twitch. He’s fighting the urge to burn her. He has the same glint in his eyes that he did before, and it makes Veronica’s stomach churn.

Except, the idea doesn’t seem too repulsive if she twists it. If she burns herself, it’s not that bad. If anything, she kind of _wants_ it.

She doesn’t realize it at first, but she’s outreached her hand. It’s right near J.D and his cigarette, and she’s able to watch as recognition dawns on his face.

It goes from recognition, to short lived surprise, and then to _disappointment._

“Move your hand away, Ronnie.” He mutters the words. When she keeps her hand outstretched, he adds, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You had no problem hurting me before.” She argues, and motions towards her scalp. J.D pulls his mouth into a tight line, and with one final eye roll he leans away and drops the cigarette on the ground, grinding the heel of his shoe against it.

“That was different. I had a reason.”

“Mass homicide isn’t a reason to slam your girlfriend’s head against the wall.” She feels stupid saying it. _Mass homicide?_ There’s mass homicide to discuss, and she’s questioning why he hurt her instead of why he killed hundreds of students.

And why, of course, he dragged her into it.

She’s not stupid. She knows it’s because they had a common enemy, but she wasn’t meant to be the villain of the story. She wasn’t meant to be the murderous side kick. They’re not meant to be Bonnie and Clyde. But that’s exactly what they are. They’re a modern day Bonnie and Clyde, tearing their way through Sherwood, Ohio with a sick sense of infallibility. They were never, ever meant to be that.

They were never meant to be.

Or, at least that’s what she tells herself. She tells herself that she’s going to run the first chance she gets, even though she welcomes his touch. She doesn’t cringe away when he opens the door and ducks back into the car. She doesn’t rip her hand away when he reaches for it. She stays and lets him hold it when he reaches for it. It’s bullshit. It’s all bullshit.

She tells herself he’s horrible, but she had no problem with him last night when he had her against the shower wall. She still has no problem as she watches him gently skim his thumb over where he had pressed the cigarette against her skin. If anything, _she’s_ the horrible one. She’s normalized him, demoted him from being a monster to just a troubled boy.

It’s hard not to, although, when he smiles at her. It’s crooked and sloppy and so... _normal._

“You had a gun, Ronnie.” J.D skims over the subject lightly, speaking of it like she just asked how his day was.

“You were going to blow up the school.”

He raises his eyebrows at her in a _‘so what’_ manner before saying, “I _did_ blow up the school, Veronica. And they deserved it. You wanted them dead and so did I.”

Anger blooms in Veronica, and before she knows it she’s shouting.

“I did not!”

J.D sighs, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Did too.”

“Did _not!”_

“Did too!”

“I did not. I did not. I did _not!”_ She’s chanting it, covering her ears so she can’t hear any more of his lies. This is the same thing that had happened in the car before, and the sense of nostalgia makes her sick.

It’s a struggle, but eventually he gets her hands away, and she’s forced to listen to him.

“You wanted something.” He tells her, sighing when she goes to cover her ears again. He catches her wrists and gives her an angry look, making her rip her hands from his hold.

“It wasn’t that! I don’t get it. I really don’t.” Veronica can feel anger bubbling up inside her once again. She doesn’t understand how he can be so _heartless._ He feels no remorse for anything he does, and that’s clear as the sky above them. “I don’t understand how you can do these things!” By the end she’s shouting, and in a moment of lapsed judgement she kicks at the car interior.

“I don’t fucking understand!” She kicks again. And again, and again until her foot hurts from slamming it against the car so hard.

“I don’t get it.” She whispers defeatedly and somehow slumps farther down in her seat, her clothes sticking to the leather and bunching up around her face. She wishes she could just pull her shirt over her face and hide indefinitely like a child would under a blanket, but she can’t. She has reality to face, and her reality is ugly.

“There’s not much to get, Veronica.” J.D says. It’s not as comforting as she hoped it would be, but his voice is generally softer, and he seems to have picked up a little bit of his fake empathy along the way. “There was a problem, and I resolved it. We did.”

His words make her remember what he had said the night before.

_You see my problem, Veronica? I do these things for you and then you go ahead and tell me it wasn’t what you wanted._

_I made us God back there._

Veronica doesn’t want to be God. She wants to be Veronica Sawyer, and just that.

“That wasn’t what I wanted.” She said into her hand. It’s muffled and barely understandable, but it’s clear enough for J.D to pick up. She can’t see him, but she can imagine the way his expression twists. They’re doing the same dance they did yesterday, and that dance led them to something that Veronica wasn’t too proud of admitting to.

“Then what did you want?” His voice has picked up a sharp edge, and the hair on the back of Veronica’s neck stands up.

“I wanted peace.” Veronica tells him. And then, without thinking, she adds, “I wanted _you._ ”

It goes quiet, and Veronica has a moment to think over her words. She did want J.D, and while she’s not proud to admit it she _still_ wants him. But she doesn’t want _this_ J.D. She wanted the gentle J.D that she had seen when they laid out in her backyard, free of a body count and in love. Well, Veronica has been free of a body count. She doesn’t know much about J.D’s previous adventures.

There’s a sigh, and then the feeling of him brushing up against her.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Veronica.” He says, and she knows what’s about to come. He’s going to ridicule her and tell her that she’s silly for ever thinking that was an option. But then, he adds, “You’ve always had me.”

His response throws her off for many reasons. One, it wasn’t what she was expecting. Two, it’s so _not J.D like._ And three, _what the fuck._

Veronica sits upright and pulls her clothes down.

“Don’t overthink it.” J.D tells her as soon as she opens her mouth, and she falters, her heart sinking in her chest. For a small moment, she had been able to delude herself into thinking that he actually cares for her.

Without thinking, she sighs and unbuckles herself, opening the car door. She doesn’t even have one foot on the ground before J.D is hastily gripping the fabric of her blouse and pulling her back.

“Oh, come on, Ronnie. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah? And what the fuck did you mean by it, then?” She snaps, scowling at J.D. She watches as his expression contorts, and his eyebrows furrow together, setting an angry expression.

“I meant, don’t overthink it!” He’s shuffled closer absentmindedly. They’ve turned their bodies completely towards each other, and neither of them have realized it.

“Oh, fuck You, J.D. _Fuck you.”_

Closer and closer they move with each word, each yell and each bicker. They move until Veronica is almost on him, and her finger is jabbing at his chest.

There’s a moment of silence between them. They’re glaring at each other, and Veronica has to fight the urge to grab at his hair and rip it out.

 _Stupid bastard, stupid bastard, stupid bastard._ Veronica recites in her head. She hates him. She fucking hates him. She despises him with everything she has, and the sight of him disgusts her.

“I hate you.” She says, and she means for it to be final. She thinks it sounds firm, but she realizes that nothing she says in this moment can be considered serious when J.D’s expression lightens, and the corner of his mouth twitches.

“No, you don’t.” He tells her, and he says it as a fact.

“Yes, I do!”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I _do!”_

Bickering erupts once again, but this time it’s humorous. While Veronica fumes in her seat, J.D watches her with a smirk. It’s obvious and obnoxious and it makes Veronica’s eye twitch.

“You’re a bastard.” She spits. Her fingers dig into the skin of his arm when his smirk deepens.

“Yeah.” He says with a cock of his brow. It’s an attempt to deter Veronica’s attention away from the fact that yes, Jason Dean does have feelings. “Always have been, Veronica. I’ve just got you now.”

“You have nothing.” Veronica hisses. He has absolutely fucking nothing. She’s not his little puppet anymore.

Veronica watches as J.D’s face contorts. He looks pained, and if Veronica hadn’t known him any better she would have believed he was upset.

“I have everything, Veronica.” He says. Veronica blinks at him, and she’s sure her disbelief shows on her expression. She knows what he means, and it’s stupid and bullshit. He doesn’t care about her.

“I have you, and that’s what matters, I suppose.” He finishes. Veronica’s a little annoyed by the _‘I suppose’_ but she has to give him some credit. He’s not an emotional guy. She’s heard him say I love you maybe once or twice, and it was in a quick moment that he probably doesn’t remember.

“You’re still a bastard.” Veronica’s trying to maintain her anger, but it quickly slips away. She’s a coward, putty in his hands at the slightest bit of affection from him. ‘ _She’s not his puppet’_ her ass. He’s got her strung up tight, ready to direct her every next move.

“Yeah.” He agrees again. His expression shifts and he picks up a lopsided smile. “We’re _both_ bastards.”

“I am _not.”_ Veronica’s attention shifts as she silently fumes, and J.D takes the moment to pry her hand from his thigh and place his on the sides of her face.

“Veronica?”

“What?!” She snaps. She’s aware of his hand placement, but she’s too angry to actually care about it. She’ll rip them away in a second.

“Please shut up.” He thumbs at her bottom lip. “This does nothing for us.”

Veronica’s ashamed to admit it, but she leans against his palm. His voice has gone soft, and she’s allowing herself to be deluded once again.

It’s such a delusion that she doesn’t pull away when he gently kisses her. It’s barely there, a ghost of a touch, but it’s a kiss, nonetheless.

And then he does it again, but firmer, and Veronica goes soft. She lets herself slump, enjoying the way he holds her face as he kisses her.

Vaguely, she has a flashback of them kissing in the car after murdering Kurt and Ram. It’s a nasty image that she has to push to the back of her head. It disgusts her, but she’s sure it’d be good for J.D. The bloodshed would probably do something for him.

There’s so many things for Veronica to think about, but she doesn’t allow herself to. She only lets herself focus on the little things, like how he’s gently tangled his fingers into the hair on the back of her neck. She focuses on the way she can feel his hot breath, and the texture of his jacket under her hands as she grasps his shoulders tightly.

His jacket smells like smoke, just as it did last night. It’s nauseating, and it should turn her away, but it doesn’t. She stays in his hold, relaxed, deluded. She’s under an illusion once again, but it’s not strong enough to completely block her inner turmoil. She has a moment to reflect on what’s happening, somehow being able to ignore the way that J.D mouths at the skin of her neck.

A moment passes where Veronica thinks maybe this is a bad idea. But, everything about this was a bad fucking idea. It’s always been a bad idea, and Veronica’s always been a little bit attracted to bad ideas, so she decides to follow the impulse and lets it lead her to place one hand carefully on the space where JD’s clavicle meets shoulder bone. His hand finds the sharp point of her elbow and then follows the contours to her ribcage. The touch is light, a ghost of a feeling, but it’s enough to make her shiver pleasantly.

When she kisses him it’s not shy or hesitant but unsure, like everything's about to shatter. It’s not like yesterday, when she had problems doing something as simple as breathing as the thought of what she did loomed over her.

She hesitates, now that's after it’s done she’s going to have to face once again what happened. She can’t dismiss it for good, play it off as something that went too far. Killing one person could be just an accident, a joke taken too far.

Except, it wasn’t a joke. It had never been a joke, and it’s never going to be a joke. People were dead, and they were dead thanks to J.D and his power over Veronica. It had never, ever been a joke to anybody but J.D. It wasn’t a joke to Veronica as she watched them lower Heather’s casket into the ground, covering it with dirt and sealing it for good, making it Veronica’s last memory of the bitch she hated so much. Veronica had hated Heather Chandler with everything she had, but she hadn’t wanted to _kill her._ That was beyond psychotic. But, that’s what she had done, and it disgusts her to think about.

It’s not her fault, though. It’s _his._

Veronica’s not gone far enough to the point where she thinks J.D isn’t bad. She doesn’t think _oh, it was just a mistake._ She knows that it was probably all pre-planned, and that he no doubt enjoyed it. He had been planning Heather Chandler’s death since the first time he saw her.

When he returns her kiss, lips brushing the corners of her mouth, she wonders if she had enjoyed it too.

As she moves herself closer, stockinged leg swinging over his jean-clad ones, other hand moving to stabilize herself on his other shoulder, she thinks about the first time she had seen him. She had thought he was handsome, and in that moment she still does. He looks rough and tired, but she likes it. She likes _him_.

He’s as crazy as they come, driven by a fucked up childhood and a desire for love. It’s the generic plot to every shitty movie with an equally shitty villain, but it works. And in a way, it even pulls pity from her. She hates his dad, because he knows that if he had been different than so would J.D. She hates the fucked up bastard for ruining what could have been a revolution in front of her.

She can’t blame his mom for what she did. She feels like that’s wrong. She doesn’t want to curse her name, especially since she was the only one J.D had ever even given her a little bit of backstory on. But for his father, she says fuck it all and wishes he ends up in hell.

Veronica goes to kiss J.D again, but he gently presses at her chest, and for a fleeting moment she feels rejection wash over her. She looks back at him, trying to hide the sting of his rejection. Just a second ago she had been excusing his actions, ready to give him what he wanted, and now what he wanted wasn’t even her.

J.D stares at her expectedly, before rolling his eyes and pressing down on her shoulders.

Veronica blinks at him in confusion. She doesn’t understand what he wants. If he wants him to get off her, that’s fine. She understands consent and she’d never do anything that he didn’t want. It just seems so out of character. He loves sex, he wouldn’t turn it down.

There’s one final sigh before he’s grasping her hand and placing it in a place that she has recently become familiar with.

“Oh.” She says slowly. He’s not fully there yet, but he’s still hard. He pushes at her shoulders once again, and it finally clicks what  he wants when he tries to direct her to the floor.

“J.D, I…” her mouth goes dry. “I’ve never done that before.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want.” He shrugs off her inexperience, and despite him being a bastard in all other categories, she’s glad that he’s not the type of guy to pressure her. Just the type of guy to murder thousands of students.

“I want to.” Veronica interjects before he can say more, because she really does want to. It’s not a guilt thing. She had wanted to the night before but hadn’t had the time to try and figure it out. ‘I just don’t know how.”

Veronica’s got the jist of it, but she’s got a horrible gag reflex and she’s sure she’ll be struggling to breathe within seconds.

 _Embarrassing,_ she thinks as she gracelessly backs off of him, sliding from the chair and hitting the car floor with a loud thump. Pain shoots through her as her knees bang against the floor, and she squeezes her eyes shut and curses under her breath.

There’s what seems like an agitated but humored sigh, and then there’s a hand in her hand. It’s supposed to be comforting, she thinks, but J.D’s not the best at affection, so it’s awkward and pretty much aimless.

His hand trails from her hair down to her face, and she feels him hook a finger under her chin and force her to look up at him, finally prying his eyes open.

She almost wishes she hasn’t, because seeing him looking down at her does nothing but induce more anxiety. She’s going to fuck this up, and then he’s going to hate it and she’s have to hide for the rest of her life.

Veronica averts her eyes to the ground and swallows nervously before shakily reaching for the button of his jeans. She fumbles with undoing it, her hands so shaky that he eventually moves hers out of the ways and undoes it himself. Veronica ducks her head down even more to hide the wild blush spreading across her entire face and slowly pulls down the zipper.

If she’s being honest with herself, she has never thought about this before. Other than last night, it never crossed her mind as an interest or as a fleeting thought. But now, as she knelt in front of him, it seems more appealing than ever.

Her hands shake as she dips her hand under the waistband of his underwear. He shifts slightly in anticipation, and Veronica’s confidence boosts slightly. He wants her. He wants her, even after she shot at him a thousand times and broke up with him. This was the least she could do…

She has to fight the urge to jerk away when she grasps him and feels him pulsating beneath her touch. She feels so small at that moment, so inferior. She has never really considered herself submissive, but as she lay on her knees in front of him, hand tucked in his pants and the other on his thigh, something inside her awakens and she’s able to swallow down her anxiety and get to what she’s doing.

“Be gentle.” She mutters before pulling her hand from beneath her clothing. She tries to move confidently as she hooks her pointer finger through the belt loops on his jeans, pulling impatiently.

A smirk quickly tugs at J.D’s lips and he lifts his hips, replacing Veronica’s finger with his own to pull his pants down slightly so that they rested at his thighs.

It’s not the first time Veronica’s seen him, but she still feels her cheeks burn at the sight of him, erect and in need of attention.

Veronica swallows nervously before reaching out and grasping the base of him. Her grip is firm, but not too tight to the point of where it hurts. She’s got the basic idea of how to get him off with her hand. She has before. But now it’s just foreplay, and she has no fucking clue how to do what’s expected.

She gently drags her finger along his base, the touch so light it’s ghostly. She’s testing him out, seeing once again how sensitive he is. Much to her expectations, she doesn’t get a reaction.

 _Okay, Veronica._ She thinks to herself. _It can’t be that hard..._

She takes in a deep breath and shuffles closer, trying not to think about the reality of the situation when she leans in closer and gently brushes her mouth over the head.

It takes her a moment to calm her rapidly beating heart, but when she does she manages to gather enough courage to do it again, kissing along the tip gently, her mouth barely brushing it yet still doing enough to make him squirm. He’s impatient, but he’s going to have to wait. Veronica doesn’t know enough to make this quick.

Veronica tries to become accustomed to the taste, the tip of her tongue coming out to lick a hesitant stripe from where his dick meets his body, trying to avoid complications while still aiming to please. The taste isn’t bad, salty and warm in a way that’s disgusting but isn’t overtly pleasant.

Her confidence wavers for a moment when she makes the mistake of looking up, seeing her lover look down at her, watching her. Her stare doesn’t falter for a few seconds, and it’s only broken when he gently places his hand on her head. It’s only there for a moment or two, but it’s enough of a reminder to set her straight. It was just them, and he’s already seen her in every way there is. There’s no reason for her to be nervous.

Becoming bolder, Veronica presses a sloppier, more calculated kiss to the underside of the head where the skin is silvery and sensitive. She feels his body shudder and takes it as direction. Another sloppy kiss follows and then another, a slow line forming invisibly back down to the base. Hesitantly she brought one hand up, unsure if the idea is going to be a bad one. She forms her index and middle finger into a loose ring around the bottom of his dick, using that to cover what her mouth couldn't.

She allows her eyes to flutter closed. Slowly, conscious of her gag reflex, she allows the tip to ease past the plush of her lips. She gets a heady sound from him in response, confirmation that she's found the right track. Veronica doesn't rush  herself; she's heard the catty girls whispering in bathrooms- she could take her time all she pleased, he'd get his regardless.

Veronica pulls away with a soft wet 'pop'. A line of spit connects her to his dick still, though it breaks when she licked her lips. He’s red and flushed now, veins slowly rising under the skin. Impulsively, she presses a kiss to one of them and watches it pulse. She licks a wet stripe to the head and flicks her tongue over the slit and relishes in the way a hand tries to hold onto her hair. Eventually, JD seems to realize that would be a mistake and instead allows the strands of her hair to filter through the spaces between his fingers.

Veronica knows she can't swallow him down like he wants, her gag reflex is relaxed but only to an extent. She tries regardless, eyes squeezed shut with her hand still covering what she can't with her mouth. Every time she sinks a little farther down she can feel his body tense up. When her gag reflex threatens to ruin her progress, she forces herself to come up for air.

His hips buck when she sinks down again, and Veronica feels a hot flush of panic as the tip hits the back of her mouth. Her body lurches with a gag she suppressed, and she has to rip herself away, a look of mild betrayal crossing her features. She allows herself to sink slower this time, the hand that had been circled around the base of his dick coming up instead to lay against the inside of his thigh, a request to at least be gentle. But, at this point, she’s not sure if J.D is _capable_ of being gentle. In a way, it's thrilling.

She sets a slow pace for herself, trying to get used to allowing something into her mouth and with a little effort, down her throat. It's nearly impossible at first, panic flaring mildly each time the head of his dick brushes the back of her throat. Unconsciously the hand she has braced on his thigh squeezes into a fist, her thumb trapped within, a weak attempt at concentrating on that instead of the flesh invading her throat.

Veronica feels J.D.'s hips jerk again and this time it seems to be a purposeful choice rather than an accidental bodily response. She doesn't push her closed fist down into his thigh to stop him but doesn't move her hand away either, as if the illusion of control is comforting enough. The bright side of him taking direction is she doesn't have to guess anymore- he can do whatever he wants at his leisure and as long as he doesn't suffocate her, it's a perfectly reasonable arrangement.

His hand comes to cup the crown of Veronica's skull and his hips shake a little now, body surely close to its finish. Jason doesn't pull on her hair or hurt her necessarily but there's no more chances for her to come up for air, embarrassing sounds squishing out the faster he fucks her mouth. She feels his hand tilt her head just so and then at the same time his hips come up, he forces her skull down, his dick slipping down her throat quicker than she can react. Her gag reflex has somehow taken a backseat and she relaxes her neck a little, allowing him to use her in whichever way he pleases. He takes her offering greedily and soon his efforts are almost a reflection of the violence Veronica has come to recognize as his brand. She knows what's about to happen next and foggily finds herself eager for it, eyes simpering as she glances up at him through her lashes, the little flyaway hairs around her face sticking to the sweat on her skin.

Vaguely, she wonders what happened to her. She used to be so reserved sexually, never speaking of the times J.D would sneak his hand down her skirt, hesitant to give something as simple as a kiss. Here she was now, on her knees in front of a man she knows she should hate, doing things to him that should have her praying to whatever god was out there for forgiveness.

She doesn’t have any time to reflect when once again forces her head down again once, twice, and one final time before Veronica can almost sense it about to happen. She feels the veins in his dick pulse and the skin tighten, the flesh impossibly hot in her mouth before she’s met with the unpleasant but not entirely unwelcome taste of cum. It startles her, despite knowing it was coming, and she finds herself sputtering, some of it leaking from the corners of her mouth.

Veronica doesn’t have the clarity to check J.D, but she’s sure his reaction is primal, desperate as he chases his own delight, heedless of the fact that Veronica can feel herself going blue from lack of oxygen. She can’t spare a moment to wonder how long this has been going on, because her head is seriously spinning and J.D hasn’t let up on her. It’s only when she’s sure her face has truly painted blue does he let her go, shoving her away.

Veronica quickly takes in a deep breath, the setting of the car around her endlessly spinning as she tries to regain some sense of coherency. Eventually, she’s able to scramble together some type of lucidity. When she comes to, she realizes in horror that cum has dripped from her lips to the front of her shirt. There’s even a few spots on her skirt and even her knee.

There’s a second of embarrassment, and then she thinks _fuck it_ and lays her head against the inside of his thigh, relishing in her wicked accomplishment.

“ _Shit.”_ He says under his breath appreciatively, and Veronica cringes internally. The taste of him still lingers on her tongue and she burns bright as she realizes that she craves more of it. More of _him._

Veronica is traditionally used to ignoring almost anything to do with herself- her better judgement, her sense of morality and above all, her own needs. She’s used to telling herself to suck it up and get over it, but it’s not like that anymore. Or, at least it doesn’t have to be. She knows she can be explosive, angry and destructive. She can release the rage that has festered in her for years now, act out every single thing that she felt guilty for ever even _considering._ She can act on the desire that pools in her stomach at the sight of her murderous lover and not worry about how it’ll affect her social identity.

It was buried before, but now it’s been awakened, made ravenous as he pulls her from the ground and she situates herself awkwardly on his lap, ignoring the way that she never tucked him away. She’s able to ignore the shame that boils beneath her surface emotions as his hand creeps up her thigh, forget all about it. It’s nothing but a distant thought at that point.

However, she’s not able to ignore how her heart palpitates as the realization that the same hands that was resting provocatively on her thigh have murdered, destroyed. Yet, as they rest on her thigh, she thinks about how they could also be gentle, curious and even _considerate._ It’s unsettling, but in a sick sense reassuring. Maybe he’s not a total lost cause. Maybe there’s redemption.

 _Stupid,_ she thinks. She can’t fix him. She can’t even fix herself.

She’s brought back to reality when she feels his hand move upwards. He’s not looking for permission anymore, simply following cues, taking hints from the way she spreads her legs further apart. His other hand is pushing her sweater up, exposing her skin to the cold temperature of the car. She doesn’t like the open feeling. She hadn’t minded too much last night, but now they were in a car, surrounded by windows that anybody could see through without a single issue. It’s silly when she thinks about it. They’re alone, broken down on a long, dusty road, yet she can’t shake her anxiety.

She shivers lightly when he buries his face against her neck, a rush of relief following after. She still doesn’t have a single fucking clue what she’s doing, and she fears that she seems like a fool with every movement. She can’t even imagine her expression, and how unappealing she probably looks. She’s not sure if she wants to.

She intakes a breath nervously before hooking one leg around his hip, allowing him a clear opportunity to do whatever he wants  She can tell the invitation is much appreciated when he shifts below her and she can feel him rouse.

“We have no lube.” She says mindlessly. She’s not even thinking about whether this was supposed to lead to them fucking or not, but she’s horny and not ready for this to end.

“Don’t need it,” J.D mumbles, his hand slowly trailing along her body until it’s dipping between her thighs. “You’re wet enough to go without it.” There’s not a trace of embarrassment or shame when he says the words. If anything, he sounds proud, and Veronica knows he’s reveling in the knowledge that _he_ did that to her. He’s smug about the wetness between her thighs, and the way that she squirms when his finger makes his way into her.

Veronica vaguely wonders what they’re going to do now, because there’s no way one can get it up again _that_ fast. Plus, the car was restrictive. There wasn’t a chance in the world that he could get his mouth where she wants it to be without having to completely switch spots and fumble around awkwardly.

Veronica gasps sharply when he’s suddenly delving farther, and she’s met with the sensation of him stretching her once again. It’s not too intense, at least until he’s knuckle deep and Veronica is bucking against his hand. It’s barely any feeling, any sensation, but she’s desperate.

It doesn’t trigger any type of feeling until he pulls them out slightly and readjusts his hand, his thumb resting gently over her clit. She only has a second to look at him before the familiar smirk settles on his face and he’s pressing down, rotating his thumb.

Veronica’s stomach hitches slightly as she feels the nerves spark. She tilts her head to the side somewhat when he kisses her jaw, mouthing at the skin before lightly nipping at it. His mouth travels until it’s at the shell of her ear, and he’s pressing a gentle kiss below it. Veronica lets her eyes flutter shut, her lips parting to form a small _‘o’_ when he increases the speed of his rotation. She’s starting to feel something now, a promise of a good time, and she’s so fucking desperate for it.

“Be patient.” He whispers the same word he had last night, his hot breath ghosting her lips when he moves back, his lips mere inches from hers. Veronica melts against him when he kisses her, only to tense again when he moves his finger down and her hips involuntarily jerk, a sharp gasp tearing from her.

“Don’t tease me.” She warns, but only gets a chuckle in return.

It’s the same thing for minutes on end. He would get her close to some type of rhythm before ripping it away, and she’d complain the same old complaint every time. It’s taking way too fucking long for her, and she gives up and completely disregards him, reaching down herself and forcing his hand out of the way to replace it with her own. She doesn’t get very far, though, because the moment she moves her fingers he’s muttering under his breath and forcing her hand away.

Veronica wants to giggle at the displeased expression on his face but isn’t able to when he returns his hand and his thumb actually moves, pressing down and moving with intention. She lets her eyes flutter shut once again, her head falling back when the feeling that she’s been begging for starts to build.

Veronica’s not sure if she even wants to orgasm, despite her desperation for it. They’re about to fuck, and she knows that when she brushes against J.D’s erection. It’s only been seven, eight minutes at the most but he’s ready again, and Veronica’s about to be incredibly sensitive.

She doesn’t have time to tell him to stop, because he’s reattaching his mouth to his neck, and not even minutes later her hips are jerking and she’s gasping, holding onto him tightly with her eyes squeezed shut. The heat in her stomach has exploded, and she’s grinding against his hand, begging for more.

She struggles to catch her breath as she leans against his chest, her face tucked against his sweaty neck. She’s panting, her entire body mush against his as she goes limp. His hand is on her hip again, resting gently as he patiently waits for her to recollect herself. She appreciates it, even if he’s probably just giving himself some more time too.

“We have to get condoms later.” He says, and Veronica purses her lips at the idea of more unprotected sex. Last night was risky as it was, doing it again was a serious issue.

“You’ll be fine.” He adds when he sees her expression. “Your birth control should protect you a little longer.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Veronica tries to argue, but J.D just rolls his eyes.

“It does now.” He closes the conversation by pressing on her chest gently, motioning for her to shuffle backwards. She’s confused, but does it anyway, watching him cautiously. It doesn’t click on what he was doing until she sees his hand dip and feels him tug at her underwear. It takes her a second but she’s able to awkwardly get them off in record time, letting them drop to the floor. One they’re off and she’s repositioned, he directs his tip to her entrance, gently nudging it.

Veronica looks at him and he catches her eye, earning a soft nod. It’s a verification that it’s okay to go ahead, and he takes it gracelessly. He doesn’t give her another warning before he’s grasping her hips and directing her down. Veronica braces herself for the intrusive feeling, but it doesn’t stop her from biting her lip when the shock rocks through her.

Veronica’s hands rest on his chest lightly, her fingers barely brushing the fabric of his shirt as she concentrates on the feeling of him entering her. Her thighs instinctively spread farther, and eventually she’s sunk all the way done, their hips meeting.

He lets her settle for a second before he slowly directs her back up. Veronica shakily rises on her knees, tightly grasping the seats armrests. She’s never rode him before, and frankly she doesn’t know how to do it. The basics are obvious, it’s up and down. She just doesn’t know how to go without being awkward and clunky.

She fumbles slightly, but she manages to move without making it painfully awkward. She feels unnaturally full, and once again inexperienced as she faces this new position. J.D’s fingers flex on her hips for a moment, and she looks up with a _‘help me’_ expression.

The corner of J.D’s mouth quirks up wickedly and his grip on her tightens permanently. He doesn’t hesitate with moving his hips upwards, jolting Veronica with the force. Her hands fly back to his shoulders, and she regards him with surprised eyes. She gasps at the feeling of J.D moving inside her, a hand now strong on her back.

Veronica again captures J.D’s mouth with her own, gasping against it when he gives a hard thrust. He pants against her mouth as they mold together, sloppy and desperate. He wants her just as much as he wants her, and it’s encouraging.

She still leaves it up to him to direct her, but she now grinds her hips down against him when they meet. It’s good, for the both of them. It makes Veronica’s stomach twist in pleasure and a quiet groan to break from J.D.

Veronica’s lips parted briefly when he pushes back in again, her body sparking with pleasure. His hand travels from her hips up to her hair, where he tangles his fingers into the strands and yanks her head back. The sudden aggression makes Veronica gasp, a strained whine coming out when he nips at the skin of her jaw. He’s hurried now, Veronica bouncing with every movement, they’re brushing together, Veronica’s chest meeting with his as he holds her close, one hand still in her hair as he brings their mouths together.

The fabric of his shirt bunches up under her grasp as she holds it tightly. She can feel herself opening up around him, welcoming the sensation and the pleasure he’s giving her. Her skin throbs as his teeth close around it, but it’s a good pain. It’s a pain that sparks pleasure and drives her closer to her goal.

Veronica whines loudly when he thrusts into her again, thumbing at her clit. and pulls away from him, shivering when his teeth accidentally graze her shoulder. He only had a moment to look at her with confused eyes before her hands are sliding from his shoulders and up to his face, cupping his cheek lovingly. He holds him tightly as she leans in and kisses him, desperately molding their mouths together as she races to her finish.

His hand slides from Veronica’s back to tangle in her hair, tugging on it harshly. Veronica gasps again and J.D takes this as an opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth.

“God, Veronica.” He pants against her lips. She keens from the back of her throat, peering at J.D through hooded, glazed eyes when he gave another sharp thrust. A ball of heat is forming in his stomach and she’s desperate for it to explode. She wants this release so _badly_. She _needs_ it.

“Fucking mine.” He pants against her lips. Veronica keens from the back of her throat and peers at J.D through hooded, glazed eyes. She’s too distracted to truly focus on his words. Even if she could, it’s not like she doesn’t know it’s the truth. She’s his, no matter how much of a bastard he is to her. “Fucking mine, Veronica. You’re fucking _mine.”_

Veronica isn’t sure where his sudden surge of protectiveness comes from, but she appreciates it. It shows that he at least cares a little bit.

“ _Fuck,”_ J.D curses again. His voice is rough and worn out and it’s the best fucking thing Veronica has ever heard.

Veronica thinks everything over. She thinks about last night, and how he had looked on his knees with her leg over his shoulder. She thinks about how he had looked down at her not too long ago, needy and desperate for _her_ attention. She thinks about how bad he wanted her mouth. She thinks about every single time he had looked at her like she was the only thing that fucking mattered to him, and it’s enough to send her spiraling.

Veronica gasps, and with one final thrust she orgasms, lurching forward and holding onto J.D tightly. He doesn’t stop moving, despite her end. He fucks her through it, chasing his own orgasm. She holds onto him tightly as pleasure wracks through her body, keeping her eyes shut until it’s completely over and she’s left feeling sensitive and worn out. J.D uses her body once, twice, and then one final time until he stiffens, his grip on Veronica tightening. He gently rocks into her a few more times until he too relaxes, slumping against the car seat.

It’s silence excluding their panting as they try to catch their breath. Veronica’s tucked her face against the skin of J.D’s neck, nuzzling against him when he loosely places his arms around her.

It’s a soft, gentle moment paired with a soft, awkwardly placed kiss to the top of her sweaty hair.

J.D breaks the relaxed afterglow with a mumbled, “The car is still broken.”

Veronica can’t help but laugh. It’s the first thing that’s said after sex, and it’s about their fucked up car. Which, now that she’s paying attention to it again, is actually a really big issue.

“ _Shit_.” She curses, pulling down her skirt and awkwardly clambering off J.D’s lap. She can see him fix himself out of the corner of her eye, tucking himself back in and zipping up while she finds her underwear. She curses again when she hits the steering wheel, and vaguely wonders how she didn’t bang her head against it earlier. “What are we going to do?”

J.D stares at the dash for a few quiet seconds before shrugging. “I don’t know, to be truthful with you.” He says, and again rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck.

Veronica sighs and runs her hand through her sweaty hair, cringing when she comes in contact with his cum. She was going to have to travel with it all over her until they found some way to get somewhere, and that was going to kill her.

“Let me try.” Veronica grabs the keys from the cup holder and reaches across, jamming them into the engine and twisting. The car makes a troubled revving sound that it hadn’t made before. It hadn’t made any sound last time at all, and that encourages Veronica to twist it again.

“It’s not going to turn…” J.D’s voice quiets when the engine rumbles to life. Veronica scoffs and he rolls his eyes.

“I told you. It just needed to cool down.”

It’s Veronica’s turn to roll her eyes, and she does it with as much attitude as she can muster. She turns back to look at the controls, her eyes scanning all the icons until her attention falls on one and she finds herself doubting her lover’s intelligence.

“Jason...” She says his name slowly.

She can hear him shuffle before seeing him out of the corner of her eye, brushing up against her. “What?”

“The gas light is on.”

J.D stares aimlessly at the dash while Veronica narrows her eyes at him. “Your car isn’t broken. It’s just low on gas and it’s such a piece of shit it stopped working for a while.” She knows she’s being harsh, but it’s true. His car is shitty, and she can tell that he knows by the look on his face.

“We don’t have gas.”

“There’s gas in the trunk.”

“No, there’s not.” J.D stubbornly shakes his head. “I was just looking in there this morning. There’s nothing in there except clothing.”

Veronica doesn’t even bother fighting. She just rolls her head to the side and tells him, “Go check.”

J.D narrows his eyes into slits, mumbling something under his breath before opening the car door and stepping out, jacket tail flying behind him.

“I’m telling you, Veronica. There’s nothing in here. There’s no fucking gas…” Veronica hears the trunk open before hearing his voice falter. It’s a few moments of silence before she hears a quiet huff.

Veronica sighs and looks out the window, watching as J.D lugs their container to the side of the car. She lets her attention follow him mindlessly until he glances up and catches her looking, giving her some variation of an euphoric smile. She burns bright, sinking lower in her chair and once again retreating into her denial.

 


End file.
